“I suppose that would be all right,” said the detective. “Weren’t naught of importance anyway.”

“I shall be the judge of that,” she informed him, and this time when Bradford snorted behind her, she accidentally-on-purpose stepped backward and trod heavily on his boot. The resulting “oof” indicated she’d won that battle, at least. “Now, perhaps you could attend to releasing Mr. Billdop whilst I look over Father Tooley’s effects. We’ve contacted the bishop to find out his next of kin.”

The priest’s clothing was in a small office in the back of the constable’s building. It took only a few moments for Phyllida to search through Father Tooley’s pockets. They were empty of everything but a rosary and a small stole, which she suspected the priest would wear if he was required to unexpectedly perform any sort of last rites, just as Mr. Billdop had done for him.

“No sign of the story contest results,” she said to Bradford, who’d hovered in the doorway as she ducked her hands in and out of the priest’s pockets. “Perhaps we should check the waste can in his office again—unless you noticed something in there.”

“I wasn’t looking for score sheets or notes about the contest,” he replied, “but the only items in the waste can were remnants of the cake box and a few crumpled papers.”

“I shall uncrumple those papers,” Phyllida said decisively, “and look through every other waste can in the rectory.” Then a thought occurred to her and she pushed past Bradford, hurrying to accost Inspector Cork before he left the constable’s office.

“What is it now, Mrs. Bright? Did you find what you were looking for?” The inspector’s hand was on the door’s latch and he definitely rolled his eyes.

“I did not. But I would like to know whether the testing on the bitters is complete, and whether there are any results from Father Tooley’s body. Did he die from arsenic poisoning or nicotine poisoning? And what about the cat? And might I compliment you on your efficiency—it was an excellent notion to use Dr. Bhatt’s laboratory.” Phyllida was always of the mind that positive reinforcement and compliments should be given whenever appropriate.

“Why thank you, Mrs. Bright,” replied the inspector in a tone that did not sound the least bit complimented. “I’m relieved you approve. However, I have no intention of giving you that information. Confidential police business, not for civilians.”

She pursed her lips. “Inspector, you know that I will find some way to acquire it. In the interest of efficiency and simplicity, you might just go ahead and tell me.”

“I might, but I won’t, Mrs. Bright,” he said, and then, to her dismay, he opened the door and slipped out onto the street, leaving her frowning after him.